


Dozens of Goons and the Cops and-

by backstagebadger



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Multi, Slow Burn, davey gets mean when people dump on his family, it's a little gay, it's another high school thing, sprace is on again off again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backstagebadger/pseuds/backstagebadger
Summary: David Jacobs is back in New York for the first time since he was a kid. The city has changed and so has he. For instance, he wasn't called David when he was here last. He ends up with a scholarship to a fine arts high school, a lot more anxiety medication, and a huge problem dumped on him: major discrimination.





	1. Paint-Water Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I have the great privilege of going to an arts school similar to this one (brownie points if you can guess which two programs I've participated in). Hopefully, I've done these amazing characters and our world current events justice. Thank you for reading. Enjoy my deep rooted love for Albo.

This place was unlike anywhere David Jacobs had seen in his seventeen years. Well, fourteen years since you start to develop memories at the age of three- Either way, it didn’t feel like a school, not at all. The hallways were too short and the lights weren’t fluorescent enough. As the doors opened and close, they didn’t sound heavy, or cold like the metal ones at every other school that shared a floor plan with a prison in the midwest.

Greeley Academy for the Arts and Humanities was barely a school in David’s mind. On the tour, he was told the artwork on the walls valued about million bucks. He’d never even been close to that much money that wasn’t behind glass or velvet ropes, wow. This school was where you could go and get your STEM credits, sure, but the better part of the day was spent studying your artform. David had a class schedule and a map stapled together clutched in his hand and the other hand resting on the strap of his messenger bag. He couldn’t seem to find the Tech classroom space and the halls were dead empty with people to ask.  _ Just go back to the office and ask someone, stupid. _ He thought.  _ If you asked, they’d probably just laugh at you because you apparently can’t read a map. Get it together, Jacobs. If they review the security footage, they’ll see you standing here like- _

A classroom door swung open, releasing an older looking boy, holding a pie tin of colorful water. David was too… Whatever to walk over and ask where to find the Theatre Tech classroom, but he reckoned that if he thought hard enough, maybe this guy would notice how lost he was. 

Luckily, the boy did notice. It was kind of difficult  _ not _ to notice the giant giraffe standing in front of the school sculpture, looking pained. “Uh, hi?” The brunette with the paint-water tried. It was rare to see students (other than the film program, and they were easily identifiable by the large cameras/egos) outside of their classrooms. 

“Could-Can you tell me how to get to the Tech classroom? I missed orientation and I have no idea where I’m going.” David blurted. His hand found the side of his glasses.

“Down  _ that _ hall,” the other boy jerked his head toward the left. “Like, all the way down. Double doors on the left.” He stared for a second too long, shrugging, before remembering he was supposed to empty the water in the janitorial closet. “Good luck.” And with that, he sauntered off. David curtly nodded to himself and followed the vague directions.

David Jacobs was a mess of a guy. They’d just moved back to New York. He hadn’t been here since he was six; his older sister, his best friend, had just left for college; his Klonopin dosage had just been changed again. With his luck, he would probably end up eating lunch alone. David took a deep breath. He promised himself that he wouldn’t try to prejudge anything this year.  _ New semester, new me. New semester, new me. _ He repeated the temporary mantra he’d adopted. Senior year will be better.

Sure enough, he did find the metal double doors to classroom 1813. With his mind racing, he turned the door handle.  _ Now or never.  _ “Oh, how kind of you to join us, Mr. Jacobs. Find a seat.” The teacher barked. His voice was an unholy level of shrill. “You can call me Mr. Bunsen.” 

David dropped his stuff where everyone seemed to have put theirs. There were eight, or nine other kids in the classes. All boys. No, that was incorrect, one was a girl. Presumably. He grabbed a plastic green chair from the stack and quietly set it down, while Mr. Bunsen droned on about safety. Looking around the room, it was clear to him that safety didn’t seem to mean too much to Mr. Bunsen. There was a crookedly hung shelving unit full of drills, grinders, heat guns, and other like handheld power tools, and nailed to the side were varying sizes of saw blades. They just… Hung there. Not tied to anything, or covered. The large yellow flammables cabinet had a minifridge on top of it and an arc welding kit next to it. All the long computer desks were full of papers. David didn’t wanting to think about how many saws were plugged into the same outlet behind him. Suddenly, he was glad his Klonopin dosage had been upped. 

“...In the art studios, they have saws that’ll stop on a dime when something soft comes near the blade. We don’t get that kind of budget, so please, please don’t put your fingers near the blades.” Mr. Bunsen exclaimed, taking his coffee mug off of his crap filled desk. He took a break from talking to take an obnoxiously long, obnoxiously loud sip. Oh boy, this was going to be a trip and a half.

Talk, talk, talk, threaten the children into being safe. Talk, talk, talk, sip coffee. Class carried on in this rhythm until the bell rang, signifying lunch had arrived. Quickly, David rushed to stack his chair and get out before anyone else. He didn’t have to depend on himself to get to lunch, because the crowd of artsy young people essentially carried him there.

The lunchroom seemed so quiet compared to most cafeteras David had been in. Not to mention students seemingly treating each other with respect. What’s that about? He had a paper bag sitting inside the top of his bag, so he ditched the lunchline and went straight for one of the few remain empty tables. Until a hand closed on his arm. Who the hell would do that who is touching-

It was paint-water boy. “It’s just you. I mean, hi.”  _ Wow. _ David tried a smile, hoping this would be less awkward. He stared at the paint-water guy  _ Jesus Christ, you need to come up with something better to call this guy. _ The boy’s green eyes crinkled gleefully when he smiled. It felt real.

“While a lot of people call me ‘You’, I prefer Jack Kelly.”  _ Jack _ extended a hand to David. He accepted the handshake, feeling less nervous. “You got a name?”

David nodded. “Yes. Yes, it’s David Jacobs. Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Davey.”  _ Davey…?  _ “I was wantin’ to know if you, impressionable new guy, would like to come sit with me and the guys. And others.” Jack flashed that crooked smile again. “You don’t gotta. I just know first days are rough.” He added. Before his voice could decline, Davey was nodding up and down in agreeance.


	2. A series of numbers and the word 'gay'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for commenting, leaving love, and bookmarking. It means a ton. Feedback is appreciated! I have a real idea of where this is going to go. Enjoy and thank you for reading.
> 
> WARNINGS: smoking images, anger, douchebaggery, language.

‘Jack and the guys, girls and others’ was a lot more people than David actually thought it would. Like, a lot more. This exceed his socialization quota for the day. A ragtag bunch of kids sat or stood around one rectangular table with extra chairs yanked from other sitting areas. Some of the chairs didn’t even match. Effortless conversation flowed back and forth, food was stolen off unattended plates, laps were sat upon. It was chaos. It was art.  _ Must be nice. _ “So then Mr. S tells me I extruded all the buildings with incorrect dimensions. Had to redo the entire model, with the fucked up Y axis and everything. Bastard’s out to get me.” A blonde complained to a redhead.

The redhead looked up from a sticker covered notebook. “Are you even speakin’ English?”

Jack continued to approach, and upon arriving, loudly cleared his throat. “Gang; Davey. Davey; Gang!” he jeered. The table collectively looked up, made some sort of noise or gesture, then looked back to whatever they were doing. Davey was distracted. Mostly by the tall boy with glasses demonstrating all the tricks he could do with his double jointed elbows. “He’s in your class, ain’t he, Smalls?” 

“Yeah, I’m familiar with ‘Mr. Jacobs.’ He showed up late.” The girl responded..

Jack looked ever so slightly astounded. “Last name basis with Bunsen on day one. Damn, Davey. What did you even do?” He chuckled. Davey didn’t take the comment as lightly as Jack had hoped for. Clearly, the comment was immediately internalized and to be turned into a massive fear that he  _ had _ in fact done something wrong.  _ It’s just a joke. You aren’t actually a… Wow, you are a failure, David. It’s day fucking one. _

Apparently, he looked tense, or pale. Something of the sort, because the redhead with the dumb hat looked up from his notes. “Jesus, Kelly, take it easy. No bullying the new kid policy. I thought you remember that from when you made Elmer cry.” he finished. His voice was really interesting to listen to. It was kind of slurred sounding, but you could still hear every consonant. His hair was a really dark auburn and he had a Glasses Face. You know, the face of a person who’s worn glasses since early childhood, and even when they don’t wear them, you just  _ know _ . Davey had one of those, too. The dumb hat was one of those hats  _ Danny Phantom _ ’s friend had worn in the series. David had loved those cartoons when he was much younger.

Another nearby kid with a cracking voice and noticeable freckles spoke up. “Hey! I didn’t cry. You know I have allergies.” Hat kid remained unconvinced. 

“Nice to meet you, Davey. I’m Albert. Film.” He said, finishing with a forced smile. He didn’t seem like the smiling type. The opposite of Jack. David carefully found a space at the table and pulled his lunch out of his bag, leaving the messenger bag hanging around his neck and side. It was a comfort thing.  _ It isn’t weird it isn’t weird it isn’t weird. Loads of people do that.  _ He attempted to convince himself, even though no one else at the table was even touching theirs. Everyone else already had lunch in front of them, so David assumed it would be fine if he started eating, too.

“So, Davey, what’s your story?” A different girl asked. Her hair was long, unlike Smalls. It was robust and curled. She had a denim jacket around her shoulders. “I’m Katherine, by the way. Kath, or whatever’s fine.” Her eyes were nice. Light, and smiled without her mouth even having to move. 

Davey almost choked on his salad. He expected to sit alone at lunch and not make any friends on the first day. Unfortunately, he was sitting at an overcrowded table, with people asking him personal questions, choking on Caesar dressing. His entire body screamed ‘Stop!’, nevertheless, he continued. “I, uh, I’m seventeen. I’m from North Carolina. Not, like, originally. Originally I’m from here.” He took a breath. “Well, Queens, that is. I’m in Tech, and… Yeah, that’s me.” Davey finished.

Katherine nodded. “Slow down, we’re not gonna hurt you. I promise.” When she said the end of her sentence, she sent a warning glance over at the blonde boy with the curly hair. David didn’t know his name yet. The boy put his hands up in surrender and stuck his tongue out at her. Katherine stuck hers out right back. “What kind of tech experience do you have.”

“Just local stuff. Kids plays, couple of main stage. Working sound, mainly.” David’s eyes flew right back down to his salad, hoping someone vaguely empathic would stop hounding him.  _ They aren’t hounding you, they are being polite. _ He tried to tell himself. Eventually, the questions did slow to a stop and his thoughts drifted to his little brother, Les. How was his first day of fifth grade going? The reason he’d been late that morning was because the carline and drop off situation at Les’ elementary school was so insane. Hopefully, the boy had at least considered the things David had shared with him in the car. David’s first day of fifth grade had ended with a call to his parents, as he sat alone at lunch and got into an argument with his science teacher. He smiled fondly. Oh, yes, back in the days where class was easy and you could count on your fingers without looking like a dumbass, and the worst rumors that could be spread about you were about nose picking, or who was holding hands with who under the basketball hoop… 

A lot of the chatter at the rectangular table had gone quiet. It made Davey almost poke himself in the glasses with his fork when he glanced back up. Two boys were walking towards the table. One was short and looked younger, like he still had hope for growing. His eyes were mischievous. He sat down next to…  _ Freckle boy. What did he saw his name was?  _ The other boy was also short, but his mouth was set in a hard frown, and he had some sort of overgrown stubble. He was much older than the boy walking with him. As soon as the second guy sat down at the table, Blonde Boy made dead eye contact with him and instantly excused himself to go for a smoke. There was a silence soaked with palpable tension. The other new-to-the-table boy didn’t even touch his food. Just looked back and forth between the back of the boy leaving, and the face of the one bitterly smiling. “You can’t just leave to smoke on a high school campus. That’s, like, not good.” It just fell out of David’s mouth. He hadn’t meant to say it, or at least like that. Everything was silent again. Until Jack looked at him and started to laugh.

“Ah, Davey. Ain’t you a breath of fresh air?” Jack grinned, brushing a nonexistent tear from his eye. He gestured widely to the new boy. “Davey, this is Romeo. He’s Race’s little brother.” Jack finished. Romeo smiled and waved. Davey waved back and pretended like he knew who Race was. It would come up eventually.  _ What kind of a name is Race? _

Romeo dug into his tray of food. “What was that about?” He asked around a mouthful of food. The boy who had been demonstrating his absurd joints earlier hit Romeo across the back of the head. “Sorry, sorry.” They were more than a high school social group, no, this group had formed their own ecosystem. Live organisms coexisting harmoniously with their environment. They all seemed to understand each other, and not a single person in their weird, loud, artsy group seemed out of place. Davey felt like an invasive species. 

The bell rang again, signifying the end of a period. The group all said their goodbyes, stacked dirty trays in washing bins and split up to head to classes, shoving each other down the hall, like some kids from a teeny bopper movie. All except Albert. He grabbed his backpack and notebook (David could make out some of the stickers; pride flag, a cheesy hand forming a peace sign, and the  _ Welcome to Night Vale  _ logo), and stomped out the door Blonde Boy had left through. 

Hiking his bag up on his neck, David grabbed his map and left to brave the hallways once again. This time to the familiar world of biology. In three little hours, he’d be home. When he was home, he could start organizing his Tech binder, call his sister, Sarah, and hopefully help Les with his homework before his raging preteen-ness kicked in. David wanting nothing more than to call Sarah. He missed her like no one ever. She would know how to calm him down, remind him to take his pills, equate his emotions. Everything. This day would be over in no time.

-

_ Will today ever end?  _

Biology wasn’t so bad. Jack was in that class. Jack slipped him a piece of paper with a series of numbers and the word ‘gay’ on it below the word  _ Discord _ . David knew this was a chatroom. Sarah was a big gamer and had used it during some of the time they’d shared a room. Biology was David’s favorite subject. He hoped to pursue marine biology. Math was slightly less good, and the last hour and a half of Tech was unbearable. Smalls made an effort to make him feel okay, but they barely knew each other. Mr. Bunsen called him a know-it-all. The classroom upstairs (film?) dropped something really heavy and expensive sounding upstairs, which was able to get David a little jittery. Mr. Bunsen really enjoyed looking at David funny. Just studying him with scrutinous eyes, in between sips of his third mug of watery black coffee. He did let Smalls lead the new kids, Davey and two other guys, on a tour of the places they’d be working. The grid and the booths in the recital hall and black box. He saw Romeo and another guy he remembered from lunch in the black box. Suddenly, the name Romeo made a lot more sense after seeing him recite a bit of a monologue. He wondered if the name was an intentional nickname. The rest of class passed without event.

Afterward, he tried to rush to his car. After saying goodbye to Smalls, though. A figure shouted his name, but he hadn’t really heard. He didn't realize anything, until someone yanked his bagstrap again. It was Jack.  _ Of course.  _ “Davey, just the man I was looking for. We need new blood for our GSA here. We had a lot of Seniors leave last year. Would you be interested? You seem halfway smart, y’know?” Somebody pushed past Jack, slamming hard into his shoulder. Jack remained unphased.

“GSA?” Davey asked.

"Right. Gay/Straight Alliance. I’m the president, so I’m pretty much in charge of making sure we get asses in seats. It’s right after school tomorrow.”

David started to nod. Then he remembered Les. “I pick up my little brother after school. I’m sorry. I wish I could.” After he spoke, he thought he almost noticed Jack’s face falter. 

“I get it. It’s alright.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” 


	3. Devorah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may appear to be a filler chapter, but it contains Plot, so do not skip. 
> 
> warnings: dysphoria, as well as the usual stuff and things.

_Smalls is the tall girl and Albert’s brash guy. Jack had the paint water. The guy with the freckles is… There’s so many of them and I can’t even remember my own name._ David thought as he clutched the steering wheel. David Jacobs was a slow driver. Remarkably slow, in fact. His brother, Les, was quick to verbalize that every time they were in the car together. Les Jacobs was ten years old, and he was a cheeky little thing. Les climbed into the back of the minivan and tossed his heavy backpack on the floor. David watched in his rearview mirror to make sure Les ended up wearing his seatbelt. If he wasn’t buckled in properly, David could count on getting murdered. “So… How was fifth grade?”

“Exactly the same as fourth grade, except people are scared of you.” Les said, pulling out his-David’s old- iPod. David checked his mirrors again and slowly eased back out onto the road. “And some third grader apologized from tripping me with his rolling backpack…”

“Wow, you’re practically an adult. Maybe I should just let you drive.” David teased. He turned down the radio a little.

Les looked up thoughtfully. “Is it a backpack even if it isn’t on your back?” This kid never ceased to amaze. He was full of useless, dumb questions. The wisdom of a fifth grader was unparalleled. “I don’t think so.” he looked back down at the iPod. The faded blue and green rubber case made David smile. It had been one he picked out when he wasn’t that much older than Les. “Oh, by the way, I still gotta ask Ma and Dad, but I wanna take band, so you’d have to pick me up later.” David nodded, not looking away from the road. “Really? Thanks. I really hope Ma lets me stay late.”

“She probably will. I mean, she’s not the one picking you up.” _Stop sounding rude. He’ll figure out you’re fighting._ “What do you wanna play?”

“Trombone!”

“Trombone? Great.” _Great._ The rest of the drive home was easy, as these drives usually were. Les was pretty tame compared to some of the kids David babysat for. It was about halfway through the drive that David realized what Les staying late meant. He could make it to their GSA. He could make it, but did that mean he could _go_ ? David wasn’t good with these unstructured events. He loved it when things made sense, and when teachers told you exactly what to be doing at all times. Work? No problem. ‘Just go with it.’ Big problem. _Just talk to Jack about it. It’s probably not as bad as you’re making it out to be. A teacher’s in the room. That’s required and…_ David’s thoughts ran wild as he pulled into the garage and shut the car off. Les slid out and ran inside, leaving his backpack in the car,  probably too excited to tell their parents about the trombone. David grabbed his backpack, his own messenger bag, and his keys. He used the black and gray panel on the wall to close the garage door.

The inside of their house always smelled like candles, even when none had been lit that day. It was so built up that it lingered. David dropped Les’ bag on the kitchen table and bolted upstairs. He had suspected they’d be living in an apartment, but his parents had pushed for something too big and suburban upstate. Getting to Les’ school had been fine. No major issues, but driving in a more city centric area was a nightmare. David noted he’d have to leave earlier if he wanted to get anywhere on time. His room still had some boxes he didn’t have the motivation to unpack, but at least the walls were painted. He’d selected a color between an off-white and a blue. Dropping his phone on his desk and plugging it in, he went through his bag in search of that paper from Jack. The gay one with all the numbers. After some serious searching, he did find it.

“Dev! Come down stairs!” David’s mom, Esther cried. _Devorah this, Devorah that._ David was so sick of his dead name. He had Devorah on top of his Hebrew name, Eliana. He didn’t like either one of them. So grossly feminine. It wasn’t like she knew not to call him that, he was worried she’d gut him for being… Not Devorah. Upon school registration, David had submitted his preferred name, and his put his older sister on as a primary contact. Older female, same last name. And David just told Esther that the emails went directly to him, which she was fine with.

Quickly, he changed out of his binder and into some lousy bra. “Hang on!” He yelled back, checking his face in the computer’s reflection and pushed the white door open. David realized he still had the paper with him, so he tucked it away in his pocket. Esther was actually a huge supporter of the whole wearing-men’s-pants thing. She loved pockets almost as much as David. He arrived at the bottom of the stairs and was pulled into a bone crushing hug.

“How was school, sweetheart? First day, new school…” his mom jeered. She was a very sweet woman, but she didn’t always _get it_ , and the pair of them had gotten into a huge fight the day before. Esther seemed to be putting it behind her, so David would try to do that too. _I cannot wait for fall break, because fall break means_ Scrabble _with Sarah and not being in this house._

David nodded. “Uh, it was fine. Good. Y’know, first day stuff. I was late, but yeah.” he mumbled. His mother looked concerned.

“Why were you late?” Nothing good came from concerned moms.

“Les’ school was nuts. Should’ve left earlier and that’s my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, honey.”

David shrugged.  _Yeah, okay._

“So… How were your classes? Did you make any friends?” _This isn’t first grade, Ma._ He thought.

“I like the school, classes were fine. This guy made me sit with him and his friends at lunch. It was fine,” David looked down at his hands when he noticed the weird, proud glint his mom got in her eyes. “I have some homework, and I was gonna call Sarah.” he muttered.

Esther nodded knowingly. She knew how much her kid missed Sarah. They were closer than any pair of siblings she’d seen. “Dinner at seven, alright? And please help Les with his homework. God knows he’s confused.” she pleaded. 

David laughed a little. “Yeah, not a problem.” His mom hug him once more. He jetted for the stairs yet again. His black converse slammed against the wooden stairs. Esther had started to hang her abundance of framed photos on the wall. David's favorite was the one of Les about a year before, missing his front teeth. When he entered his room, David's computer screen had blinked on while he was downstairs. FaceTime call request. _Sarah!_ He called back and waited, listening the blipping phone sounds.

“David!” Sarah smiled when he answered. “I wasn’t sure if you were out yet, that's why I didn't spam you.”

“I am, in fact, not out yet.”

“You know what I meant, dumbass.” Sarah Jacobs was a badass. A really chill badass. She wouldn’t agree with the statement, but it was all the same in David’s eyes. She was an Engineering major at Boston University. Her eyes were always so curious. David suspected his desire to retain knowledge came from her. “How was school?”

“My teacher hates me. Well, I have more than one teacher, duh, but my Tech teacher hates me. He toured with _KISS_ for twelve years, and I thought you’d appreciate that.” He took a breath and looked around for the half empty bottle of Diet Coke he’d had the night before. _Mom must’ve thrown it out…_

“That’s awesome. And I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. You’re a damn good student, Dave. It’s the first day, you can’t-”

“I can’t prejudge, I know. But he just kept looking at me all morning. Not the teacher picking a student to stare at kind, but the..." he made an inaudible noise. "kind. I think I made a friend, though? I could be wrong, but he’s alright. Is it weird to assume like that? I dunno.” David bit his lip.

Sarah was surprised. David wasn’t the type for friend making, so this other guy must have been trying to get his attention in the first place. “No? No, you’re doing this right, don’t think you aren’t. I see that dumb look on your face.” Her roommate tumbled in through the door and started talking. “Listen, I’ll call you back later. When I’m alone, okay? Love you, David. Give Les a hug for me.”

“Yeah, okay. Love you too.” And just like that, it was quiet again.


	4. And a trans Jewish kid.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: violence, a little bit of derogatory language, dysphoria.
> 
> Will finish editing later.

Davey stood in front of school. Day two couldn't be as bad as day one. Surely. The building seemed brighter, nicer, with more people in it. Groups of friends occupied the wooden lunch picnic tables out front, loudly exchanging comments and snapchats. Davey couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It seemed so cliche.  _ Or maybe you’re just jealous.  _ The big stairs were less intimidating when they were actually full of people. “Hey there, you’re in our class, right?” Someone mumbled behind him. Whipping around, David stared at the two boys. They were larger, not taller, but much bigger than he was. 

The pair of them looked like to versions of the same person. One had on a brimmed hat- _ That breaks dress code.-  _ and had longer hair. His mouth was full of metallic brackets and wires, so Davey assumed he was the younger of the two. The other wore a mean snarl and a…

_ Oh my God. _

A ‘ _ Make America Great Again! _ ’ shirt.

“Um, yes. I think so. Tech?” he asked. The one nearest to him nodded. “I… I”m David. I really don’t remember catching your name. I showed up late, so…” Davey trailed off. Awkwardly, he pulled off his glasses and cleaned them off on the hem of his shirt. They were new, and yet, they were already scratched. The front of them was rectangular and black, and the ear pieces were blue. That was a nervous tick of his. More of a compulsion, really. That and hand washing. David stared around the inside of the building. His vision was greatly worse in one eye. The hand washing compulsion came from his hyperhidrosis, which, gross as it was, maifested mainly in his hands.

The boys nodded again. “Nice to meet you. I’m Oscar, and this here is Morris, my brother. David, you said?’ Oscar finished, crossing his arms over his chest. David nodded hesitantly, wondering how he had missed his name.  _ I only just said it. Unless- _ “You sure?” Oscar asked, taking another step closer.

There was a long pause, filled with only the chatter of school kids. David could no longer keep the bite out of his voice. “ _ Yes _ , I’m sure.”  _ I picked it and everything.  _

With that, they all started heading towards the classroom. The halls started to become tighter and tighter as they went. “You new here?” Morris asked.

“I’m originally from here, but,” David’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat, trying to take it back to its usual register. “But we’ve been living in North Carolina since I was a kid.” The duo continued to stare at David, judging… No,  _ scanning _ him. Davey already didn’t enjoy eye contact, or raising his hand in class, let alone this coming from his peers.

“Oh, Davey-Boy, hey!” Smalls called, also stalking towards the classroom. Davey let out a breath he didn’t know he’d inhaled in the first place. Morris and Oscar stopped dead as the girl approached Davey. She launched into a full conversation with him on the spot. Oscar’s lip curled back again. “How’d you like class yesterday? Bunsen’ll probably yet us work with actual tools again today. He ain’t as scary as you think. He don’t pay much attention to us anyway.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He opened the shop door and held it open for Smalls and the pair of brothers. The resumed the same seats as the day before. David noted Oscar sitting next to him.

Mr. Bunsen walked in eventually. He called Oscar to the front of the class and handed him a tin of screws and drill bits. Oscar was instructed to pass out twenty screws and a drill bit to each student. David looked at what he had in his hand.  _ Nineteen, twenty… No drill bit.  _ Mouth parched, he raised his hand. “I didn’t get a drill bit.”

Oscar walked back over and handed him one. “I didn’t realize you needed one.” He muttered. Smalls glanced over, eyes bright. She hadn’t heard any of the exchange.

Davey listened to their directions from Mr. Bunsen, but he could shake the thought of two Trump-backing beefcakes, wielding power tools, in class with him, a trans, Jewish kid.

-

It was lunch once again. David talked with Smalls all the way. She was excited to announce they’d be doing Romeo and Juliet for their play this semester, so that meant tech would be getting their jobs soon. Davey was excited to throw his entire person and sense of being into a show. It made everything else feel so much easier. Some people played sports, some people wrote, Davey colored coded, streamlined, and organized. On a good day, he got to be snarky with other teens. It was nice.

The minute the cafeteria doors swung open, the sounds of screams rang out. “Put him down!” The voice was panicked and shrill. Davey could see Jack and the blonde headed boy, who Davey had learned was called Racetrack/Race/Racer/whatever on the _Discord_. Romeo was literally being put in a trashcan. You don’t know what actually seeing that is like. You see it in the movies, or in the comics, but it’s shocking in real life. Watching a freshman hanging from his ankles, head in the trash is brutally real. _Is this really how it works in the city?_ “I swear to Jesus if you don’t leave him alone, I’ll-”

“You’ll do what, Stuttermouth?” The attacker muttered. David glanced up, trying to see through the crowd-the size of the group of people who didn’t want to help, but instead, videotape was staggering- was thick with people. Race’s voice was clearly picked out above the rabble. He was screaming. Jack kept trying to pull him off, but nevertheless, Race persisted. Another boy, crutches on his wrists, stood by. “Or you’ll. Do. What.” The larger boy repeated.

Race reared back his left arm. “We’ll see who’s Stuttermouth after this…” He slammed his fist in the boy’s jaw. And again, and again. Romeo was eventually let go of. Jack grabbed him before he could get hurt anymore. There were tears in Romeo’s eyes. Seemingly in seconds, Albert was by Race’s side. 

Eventually, the boy Race had argued with the afternoon before had broken up the fight, aided by teachers. The boy who had been holding Romeo by the ankles peeled himself off the linoleum. This was recognizably Oscar. Oscar and his group, smiling, were lead to the nurse. Race was lead to the principal's office, alongside Albert. When the crowd had drifted back to the lunchline, like the shock hadn’t even happened, David realized Smalls drifted away. He hadn’t even noticed noticed she was gone. She was crouched next to the boy with crutches. They both had a hand on Romeo’s shoulders. He shrugged them off. “I’m fine.” Davey could hear them say. 

Unfortunately, Jack beckoned him over. His converse pulled him to the gaggle of teens unwillingly. Jack’s eyes weren’t warm anymore, they were cold and angry. “Did you fucking see that?”

David nodded somberly. There was a long beat of silence between all of them. 

“Jack,” The blonde boy with the crutches placed a hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder. “I think we should skip GSA today. We all need a break after this.” His voice was insanely gentle, with undertones of forcefulness. 

“What the hell are you talking about? We need this today more than ever.” Jack was adamant.  “Tell him, Davey.”

_ You aren’t allowed to pull new kids into this, Jack. _ “Uh…”

“We’ll talk about it.” By the tone of his voice, that meant no.

  
  



	5. Before he went bananas and all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood mention, fight mention.
> 
> be gentle, i didn't edit this well, as my computer is trying to kill itself.

“Shit! Oh, oh, thank goodness. It’s you.” David had barely sat down in his car when some wise guy started to bang on the thick plexiglass of the window. He jumped about seventeen feet out of his seat, only to realize it was just Jack, who continued to slam his clay cover hands against the window, but David felt  _ slightly  _ less like a scared zoo animal and cranked the window down. “What’s up?” he said?

Jack raggedly tore through his hair with his hands, leaving some small clumps of clay in their path. “Davey, man, can you give me a ride?” 

“Uh, sure?” David inhaled to start another sentence, but it seemed like Jack was already  jamming his destroyed and doodled on backpack into the open (broken) back window. By the time the driver could speak again, Jack’s butt was in the front seat. “Wait, fuck-fudge… I-I need to pick my brother up from school. Is that cool?”  _ ‘Is that cool?’ Lay of the brakes, idiot, this IS your car after all-  _

Jack was nodding, but it didn’t seem like he cared, or just wasn’t listening. Davey started the car. He glanced at the hitchhiker. “Seatbelt.” Jack didn’t budge, but eventually complied. After an overdrawn eyeroll, of course. Jack was morbidly out of character. Leg bouncing; frown hard set, like the one Davey normally had - it was a miracle he didn’t have wrinkles. This Jack was blazing fire, the same one he had seen in the cafeteria, but nobody had really tried to put this fire out, so it grew and grew and grew. David might have stared at him for too long, but he was glad he did. “You’re bleeding.”

The brunet snapped out of his ferocious daze, and the traditional crease between his brows returned. “Where?” 

David gestured to his own mouth, mirroring where the blood would be if he were Jack. “Your mouth… Did someone…?”

“That? No. I did it. Prob’ly just chewed it too far.” He stared straight ahead again. Apparently, Jack wasn’t a strange to that, and wiped the blood dripping down his lips and chin on the sleeve of his gray, striped button up. This lead David’s mind to wander back to all of his paint-stained items, and how much of the ‘paint-stain’ was actually paint. 

There was a lag in conversation when Davey reversed out of the parking space. “There’s a First-Aid kit under your seat if you need a… Whatever.” Davey mumbled. David couldn’t see watching the road and all, but Jack smiled a little, causing his lip to split and crack open a bit more.“Where am I taking you?”

Jack smiled again, but the flames were back. “Davey-boy, the question isn’t where are you taking me, but where are you taking  _ us _ .”

“Excuse me?”

-

After Jack had forced Davey to drop Les at home, and Les had carried an enormous trombone case with him. Tomorrow began late pickup. Jack gave him remarkably good directions to some house farther out towards Queens. “Left at this sign.” Jack muttered, removing his seatbelt and climbing over the console for his backpack. David felt like he’d blow a microchip if this guy didn’t sit  _ the fuck _ down. 

“I’m going to be stopping at this sign and when I land my foot on those brakes, you will be flying through my windshield, unless you put your seatbelt on. Please. I’m begging.” Jack continued to muck around in the back. David prayed as he slowly braked at the sign.

“See? Lighten up, no one died.” Jack bit back, sitting back in the front seat, slamming his backpack into David’s shoulder.  _ Great.  _ “Your little brother’s real sweet, by the way. He handed my ass to me about six times on that trip.”

“And I’m about to hand it to you as well.. If you don’t put your seatbelt on!”

“I heard you, I heard you. Jesus. Hang on, stop, this is the house.”

The house was monumental to say the least. Very suburban, very big. More windows than Davey had fingers. White house, marmalade shutters, green grass, not astroturf, grass..  _ Edward Scissorhands  _ perfect hedges. It had it all. A sweet little sign hung at the door with the name  _ Higgins  _ carved into it. It looked like a museum. Neighborhood watches in places like this ate kids like Jack and Davey for brunch, with a mimosa. 

“You live here?” 

“Aw, you’re cute. No.” Jack was out the door before David had pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Racer and Romeo do, though.” He cleared his throat. “Do yourself a favor and don’t park anywhere near this house.”

The pair of them jogged up to the house. The door was unlocked and propped open a jar, but Davey couldn’t remember Jack signaling their arrival, or sending a warning at any point on their drive. Did… Did white, rich people think that was just a thing? About ten feet out from the house, they could hear music coming from inside the house. Like a house party in a boppy ‘90’s film. “Why are we here, Jack?” 

“You think peewee, Freshman brother is going to be able to calm Race down?”

  
“I don’t know what I think. I’ve known you for, like, two days.”

Jack ignored him and plowed on, pushing the door open with a muddy shoe and took off towards the stairs at a million miles per hour. “RACER, ROMEO!” He sounded like a small elephant going up the stairs. David followed, more quietly behind him.

Romeo appeared at the top of the staircase, bruised and upset. “Jack, he won’t come out. He ran up here and locked the door.” Frankly, Davey wasn’t quite understanding why all of this was such a big deal. Teenagers got angry, and got in fights, and stood up for their brothers. He was allowed to blow off steam, right? 

Then, a crash came from the inside of the only immediately visible room on the landing that didn’t look identical to the others. There was tape all over the door. Different kinds in different shapes. Tape. Jack looked from the door back to Romeo and placed his hands on his shoulders. “First of all, are you okay? You took a helluva beating today.” Jack said quietly. It was the only time he’d been quiet since Davey’d met him. He seemed to kick into brother mood. 

Speaking of which, David saw the nasty bruises on Romeo’s arms and piped in. “Jack, how about you see if you can get through to Race, and I’ll fix Romeo up.” He swiveled his attention to Romeo. “ You didn’t go to the nurse, did you?” Davey asked. The music inside the locked room changed to  _ Queen  _ and the volume increased, maybe to cover the dialogue in the hall. “Let me clean you up, okay?”

“Race already did. Before he went bananas and all…”

There was another crash from inside the room, then there was a car horn outside from a very large vehicle and a much louder crash from inside the room partnered with a screech. “Of course!” Race yelled.

Romeo’s eyes went wide. Jack was chewing his mouth again. “The cavalry's here, huh…”

“The what?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. This isn't How I Met Your Mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i'm back. the computer's on her last legs, amd school's been tough, but i've only got my film exam left, so that's great. expect this to get finished this summer. i mean it. edited on a phone. my apologies.
> 
> WARNINGS: swearing, "violence" but no graphic depictions, mentions of ADD/ADHD and the foster system.

_ There was another crash from inside the room, then there was a car horn outside from a very large vehicle and a much louder crash from inside the room partnered with a screech. “Of course!” Race yelled. _

 

_ Romeo’s eyes went wide. Jack was chewing his mouth again. “The cavalry's here, huh…” _

 

_ “The what?” _

 

* * *

 

Jack took a deep breath and turned to Romeo. “Are they on or off right now?” He was wringing his hands together now. There was something very methodical about everything Jack did. Initially, David thought Jack jumped feet first into anything, without a second thought. But it seemed Jack was more the type to think hard, and allow it to absorb him. Maybe he didn’t act on the things he picked up, but he had a procedure for most things. He was prepared to change his plans on the fly, but he had plans to begin with, at least.

 

“What?” Romeo asked.

 

“Spot and Racer. Is he gonna start,” Jack stared at the boy’s door, and suddenly lowered his voice. “Screamin’ or something, or are they gonna jump on each other?” Jack muttered. 

 

David rushed to a window. It was tall and narrow and had too many panes. What kind of a window is that? Outside, he saw an armored  _ Jeep Wrangler _ . It was black and the tires seemed too large, although that could be a distortion of the silly window. The passenger door swung open, and Albert stepped out. The rumble of the engine died down and the driver’s side opened too. “I don’t know who the one guy is, but Albert’s with him.” The ‘one guy’ was wearing sunglasses and aside from that, David couldn’t get a good look at his face. But he was shorter than Albert by quite a bit, and he was built like a pitbull. 

 

“Albert let him park out front?” Romeo wondered out loud.

 

“Uhh, Albert let him park on the lawn.” Davey replied.

 

The music had been turned down in Racer’s room. David could hear the clock ticking in the hallway. 4:34, he noted. Racer cracked the door  to his room open, the tape balls around the door hinges creaked and groaned. “Spot?” he asked. His voice was calm now. Romeo nodded. 

 

“Albert too.” his younger brother added. 

Race paled. “Shit.” Race was tall, taller than Davey, and Jack. He had a cut on his forehead. It was bleeding down onto his eyebrow, which was stopping most of it up. The cut hadn’t clotted yet, though. That was a concern for Davey. He didn’t know if it was from the fight earlier, or self inflicted. Who knows what he was smashing up in there. “Don’t let Albert come in here. He hates it when I get like, um, upset and- Yeah.” Race had a hard time get his ‘I’s out. His previously slight stutter appeared to worsen when he was emotional. “Hey Davey.”

 

Jack put a hand on the door frame. “Can I come in?” His voice was light. Not soft or condescending, but patient. “I’ll help you pick your shit up.” Race’s wild eyes scanned around the landing of the stairs. He looked more somber now, and embarrassed. His blonde hair flopped over the cut on his face as he nodded. Jack turned his attention back to the the other two. “Go play trophy wife downstairs. Stall for time. Romeo, text your folks. See how long before they get back.” Jack stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

 

Romeo turned to Davey and shrugged a bit. “Sorry you got dragged into all this.”

 

That comment shocked David. Why on earth was this kid, a high school freshman, who got beat up and practically put in a trash can that very same day apologizing to him? He felt his eyebrows raise as they walked down the stairs, Romeo in the lead. “Why are  _ you _ apologizing? Nothing happened to me. This hasn’t made me think less of any of you. God, it should be me telling you I’m sorry after what happened today.”

 

The smaller boy grinned. The smile reached his eyes, and his face, though bruised, lit up. “You’re makin’ me blush.”

 

“Knock, knock.” Albert called. He pushed the door open with his foot. He wore a backwards baseball cap over his red hair. 

 

“Hey.” Romeo replied. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

 

See, David Jacobs would’ve broken down, been driven to his therapist, and not spoken to anyone for a year had he been in this boy’s shoes freshman year. He certainly wouldn’t have been leading with a Jay Gatsby attitude, and cracking jokes. This was what resilience looked like.  _ A freshman is more emotionally stable than you are. _

 

The boy who walked in with Albert closed the door behind himself and strided straight over to Romeo. They were similar in size, but the other boy, who’s name David had already forgotten, had a nose that looked many times broken, took his sunglasses off and hung them from the pocket on the front of his red and white striped tank top. He folded his arms of his chest, unbothered by the crunching plastic sound of his newly removed sunglasses, and looked Romeo up and down. “No cuts, no broken bones?”

 

“No. But you shoulda seen the other guy.” Romeo said, trying to coax a smile out of the other boy, as he giggled to himself. David hadn’t known Romeo for longer than two days, but it was abundantly clearly that this kid was a  _ lover _ , not a fighter. 

 

Sunglasses didn’t budge. “You got cleaned up alright?”

 

“Scouts’ honor.”

 

“Can’t believe those two,” the boy’s fist clench. Every muscle in his right arm tensed. “They’re dead.” He took a deep breath.

 

“Ooh, Albert be sure to bring your camera for when Spot bequeaths his worst upon the Douchebag Brothers.”

 

“You’re such a shithead.”  _ Spot  _ said it with a bitter smile. “Alright, cut the crap. Where’s your brother?”

 

Romeo hesitated for a second. Davey hovered closer to the staircase. A subconscious notion or body-block to the stairs. Apparently, the younger of the group noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, Spot! You haven’t met  _ our guest _ yet. He’s new, so be nice.” Romeo made a wide, scoping gesture with his hands, and waved his fingers at Davey. “Ta-da!”

 

“Uh, hi.” David muttered. There was a pause. David felt that choking feeling crawling up his chest and into his throat. That klonopin-klonopin-klonopin feeling. “Right, uh, I’m Davey—David Jacobs. I just moved here. I mean, I lived here before, but now I do again, so… I go to Greeley.”  _ He didn’t ask for your life story. _

 

“I’m Spot.”

 

_ Wow. _

 

Thankfully, neither of the two others currently in the room had noticed the interaction. Romeo had busied himself in texting his parents, and Albert had vacated the doorway, taken his shoes off and was mucking around in the DVD cabinet. His socks were horrendous. Cats on skateboards. 

 

Albert had looked up from leaving breath rings and fingerprints on the polished glass. “Okay, can we go upstairs now?” 

 

Romeo’s head shot up. “Who wants drinks?”

 

4:41. They bought Jack and Racer six minutes.

 

“Me,” Albert said. “As long as we’re allowed to take them  _ upstairs. _ We came here to check on you, in fact, I was worried out of my mind about you, but your bullshit game has been so strong this afternoon, that I just  _ know  _ in my heart that you’re hiding one of his outbursts.”

 

Spot cocked a brow and nodded. 

 

“Okay, so two diet cokes to-go. Got it.”

 

* * *

 

Spot pushed the door open. His face was clearly surprised when it didn’t look post hurricane in there. “Racer?”

 

Race was sitting on the bed, throwing a rubber ball against the wall and grabbing it again just before it hit the wall behind him. Said walls were dark blue, and there were glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling. A whiteboard on wheels with dozens of colorful markers in the tray below it. It was empty. A shelf held trophies in one corner; little league all the way to what looked like scholastic awards. Peeling posters of Nikola Tesla and some bands it seemed only Race had heard of sat above the bed. Models made of every material sat in every available space. Spaceships, recognizable buildings, unrecognizable buildings, dioramas. Shoes, clothes and ugly hats were strewn across the floor. The crown jewel was the computer set up. The only thing that seemed of the house’s tier. Two monitors, one up on some TV program bootlegging website, the other on a  _ Vectorworks _ draft that was rendering. Green, glow-y gamer keyboard blinked slowly on and off almost to the rhythm of the bouncing ball.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey?” Albert asked.

 

“Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here. I heard Spot’s car. Kind of you to check on the kid, though.” Race had almost all of his attention trained on that rubber ball. If he did anything else, he might tip over the bookshelf again. “He’s doing well, so if you guys have other plans, please don’t let me—”

 

“What is up with you?” Spot sighed, slamming the door. He held that Diet Coke in his hand. 

 

_ Donk. Donk. Donk. Donk.  _ The ball bounced on and on. “Nothing. I’m fine. Good ol’ Race. Same old, same old.”

 

_ Donk. Donk. Donk.  _ “Would you put that damn thing away.” Spot didn’t ask.

 

“Spot.” Albert tried to cut in, but the best friend was always awkward in between two people who were dating. 

 

Race stopped bouncing the ball. “C-C,” He stopped to take a breath. “Can I help you?” 

 

“Are you doing okay? Are you still taking—” Racer silenced Albert with a laugh.

 

That’s when Jack pulled Davey and Romeo away from the backside of the door. Romeo took some tape with him. Davey was terrified. Where had Jack gone? Out the window? “Alright fellas, you’ve had your time. I’d best get Davey-boy home.” Jack placed an arm around his shoulders. “Call me when the leave, kid.”

 

“Yeah,  _ dad. _ ”

 

“Alright, smartass. Don’t forget.” And with that, Jack dragged Davey back down the street to the car.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so, my house or yours?” Jack put his seatbelt on without argument this time.

 

Davey’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “That’s it?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“What happened back there and why didn’t you hitch a ride with someone you’ve known for more than, like, two days?” Davey still sat with the car off, his hands clutched the wheel tightly.

 

Jack’s teeth were on his own lip again. “I ain’t gonna spill someone’s life story to you. Bro Code and all.”

 

_ You’re shitting me.  _ “You’re shitting me.” Davey started the engine on the car. “This isn’t  _ How I Met Your Mother. _ I’m worried about those two, and… What’s that Spot guy’s deal? Are we sure about him? Like, is Romeo safe in that house? If I drive off, will I be responsible for a murder, or, or I dunno, maybe-”

 

“Davey, Davey, hey,” Jack’s hand was placed over David’s all of a sudden. His mouth closed and his brain went into overdrive. He sprang to his cheeks and ears. Hopefully, it didn’t show. David would’ve glanced in the rearview, but he was afraid to catch Jack’s eye in the process, so not knowing was preferable at that moment.  _ This doesn’t mean anything, he just wants you to shut up, Big Mouth.  _ “No, I get it. I’m a dick, I get it.” Jack seemed to be giggling a little bit. David hadn’t remembered saying anything funny. His hand hadn’t moved. “You drive and I talk. Ain’t gonna tell you everything, but you deserve a little background, I get it.” 

 

Jack looked at Davey, Davey looked at the road, and moved his hand from beneath Jack’s to the gear shift. Deal upholded. Jack spoke. “First off, to calm ya down a little bit,” Davey could’ve sworn he heard a laugh. “Spot’s a stand up dude. Him and Racer’re from Brooklyn. We all went to the same middle school. Him and Racetrack are dating. Or… They’re usually dating. I think they are right now, but, hell, who knows? Not my business,” Jack looked over for confirmation the driver was listening. Davey nodded along. “He’s not killing anybody in that house. Race and me were in the same h- Wait, uhh. You can’t tell anybody I told you this.”

 

“Told me…?

 

“I don’t mind you knowing, but he might. Race and me were in the same foster home for a long time. I’m outta the system now.” Davey nodded again. The giant, scary neighborhood was behind them. “So yeah, anyway. Racer’s like my idiot kid brother. Honestly, Spot is too. They’re my right hand guys, I guess. But Race has been in a lot of jams and he’s a little,” Jack stopped to search for a word. He couldn’t think of one so he just gestured with his hands, shaking them a little. “Him and stress don’t sit well together, and he ain’t great at focusing on things. Uh…”

 

Davey kept watching the road, but spoke up. “Oh, okay, like ADD or ADHD, or something?”

 

“Yeah. You know a lot about that stuff?”

 

“Just what my older sister’s been through. She’s Attention Deficit.” Davey said.

 

Jack nodded. “Ah, gotcha.” He said. “By some miracle, we’ve gotten to stick around each other this long. We just got used to dealing with each other and keepin’ the other one out of trouble. He hasn’t had an episode or nothin’ in a while. Today hit all of us pretty hard.”  Jack tried to put his nasty, Converse covered feet up on the dash, leaning his seat back.

 

“First with the seatbelt and now this? Can’t you just ride in the car like a normal person? Please.”

 

Jack had that cheeky grin on his face again. “Pssh, where’s the fun in that?”

  
  



End file.
